


Amend My Life

by casey2y5



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Catholic Character, Emetophobia, Illness, M/M, Roman Catholicism, really only shippy if you squint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-28
Updated: 2014-12-28
Packaged: 2018-03-04 01:37:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2904527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/casey2y5/pseuds/casey2y5
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky's always been the religious one. Steve's never questioned it much, but he didn't know why he never checked their childhood church. Memory is a funny thing that way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Amend My Life

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lipsstainedbloodred](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lipsstainedbloodred/gifts).



> So I did not even come close to getting my Christmas presents done on time AND they were supposed to be fluffy. Really I don't know what anyone expected.

He found him in a church in Brooklyn. Months of searching Eastern Europe, South America, every corner of the globe imaginable and he finds Bucky in the church they went to as kids. It probably should have been less surprising. When Bucky needed to get away, get out of the apartment before the walls closed in he came here and helped with whatever he could. Half the wedding receptions in the neighborhood had chairs set up by Bucky Barnes. Bucky had dragged him to Mass, every Sunday of their lives, rain or shine, save the ones Steve was too sick. In hindsight it should have been the first place he looked but it hadn’t even occurred to him until the rosary Bucky had carried in his pack through the war disappeared from the Smithsonian.

Steve could see it now, beads worn from years of use, resting solidly in Bucky’s hand. There was enough sun filtering through the stained glass to reflect off his hair and the exposed metal hand. He’d been standing there long enough for Bucky to make it through one and a half rosaries. Bucky had to know he was there watching. Steve was glad his presence was being tolerated. He couldn’t help but wonder if some of the memories washing over him now were the same ones that led Bucky back here.

*****

Bucky had been the more devout of them, ever since they were eight years old and Steve had scarlet fever. His mother kept telling him Steve would be fine, that he should do his best not to worry. Bucky knew it was bad, though. He’d always been allowed to sit with Steve when he was sick before so long as they didn’t get too excited, and he’d seen Mrs. Rogers come back with a doctor twice now. She had left again ten minutes ago after coming to get his mother.

Rebecca was asleep in her crib so he didn’t dare leave to try and hear what was happening across the street. Mrs. Rogers came back a few minutes later, doctor and priest hurrying behind her and Bucky’s stomach dropped out from under him. He heard the door open sometime between realizing what the priest meant and falling to his knees in front of the window.

“Please, God, I understand why You’d want Steve back so soon ‘cause he’s so good and kind and everythin’ else but his mom would miss him a lot ‘cause she doesn’t have anyone else and so would I. He needs to be here so he can keep helpin’ the little kids and tellin’ all the bullies they’re wrong. I know I ain’t no Steve. Ain’t good most of the time and probably gotten Steve into every scrape he’s ever been in but if You gotta call someone up today make it me. Ain’t worth as much but I’ll do my best so long as you let Steve stay a little while longer. Don’t wanna live in a world without Steve.”

He heard his mother clear her throat. Her eyes were red-rimmed and Bucky realized his mother was crying in front of him for the first time ever. He looked up at her before crossing over to her and hugging her as hard as he could manage.

“Don’t want Steve to die, mama.”

Her hand smoothed over his hair. “Come on James. I think you need to go see him now.”

*****

They were ten and it was four o’clock on the first Saturday of the school year. Steve was dawdling, kicking every piece of litter on the sidewalk.

“Come on. We’re gonna be late,” Bucky urged, reaching out to tug Steve along.

“Don’t see why we gotta go to this stupid class anyway.”

“Because everyone did it last year, but you were sick when it started and I didn’t want to do it without you. I wanna take Communion. It’s important.”

“Maybe I don’t wanna do it.”

“You an, an, you not believe in God, Steve?” Bucky asked, stopping in middle of the sidewalk.

“Course I do, Bucky. Just don’t see the big deal about it.”

“Don’t have to come if you don’t wanna. Wouldn’t have waited if I’d known. You going to be at church tomorrow or should I sit with Becca and my parents?”

Bucky turned around and started walking again with all the fury he could muster. It was less than ten steps before Steve was scampering to catch up.

“Comin’ with you,” Steve said.

Steve went quietly for a month, sitting next to Bucky and dutifully doing all the work put in front of him. They were walking back home when Steve felt the need to open his mouth again.

“Why’s it so important to you?’

“Cause you’re still alive. Gotta be a God for that to happen. Figure if I do everything I can do serve Him, He might let me keep you a little longer, Stevie.”

*****

Bucky was chewing his nails. He had been all day, only stopping when he’d actually needed his hands for something. Now that they were actually in the vestibule with the fifteen other teenagers waiting to be called forward, it was getting worse.

“Cut it out, Buck. Gonna make yourself bleed again,” Steve said, batting Bucky’s hands.

“You rather I chew your nails? Can’t help it. I’m nervous.”

One of the girls glared at them and hissed under her breath.

“Just calm down. Not like you’re going to kneel down and get smited, alright. Worst can happen is you throw up on the bishop’s shoes if you keep on in this state.”

“Don’t say that,” Bucky said, turning an unpleasant shade of green like the thought had just occurred to him.

“Oh, Bucky don’t.”

“Be fine as long as I keep my mouth shut.”

Steve finished the ceremony first and was sitting waiting for Bucky’s turn. He watched Bucky tear a piece of cuticle off, turning steadily more green as he got closer to his turn. He hardly got out the “And also with you.” before he was throwing up on the bishop’s shoes. Bucky stood, looking horrified before fleeing from the church.

Steve watched it unfold in slow motion. He was up and moving before he’d even made the decision. He stopped in the small kitchen to get a glass of water for Bucky. He could hear him still retching and the alley and went over, rubbing his back until he looked up, dragging in a few ragged breaths.

Steve offered him the glass of water and watched Bucky rinse his mouth out. He went to the opposite side of the alley and slide most of the way to the ground. They stayed silent for a while, Bucky sipping the water.

“I think that may have been the most embarrassing moment of my life. Like, do they even let you in if you throw up on the bishop?”

“You’ll be fine. Besides, when you were climbing the rope in gym and you lost your pants and weren’t wearing any underwear was definitely worse.”

“You’re the opposite of helpful, Steve. You know that?”

“Brought you water, didn’t I?”

Bucky stood up, leaning against the wall. He pulled Steve close, wrapping an arm around his shoulders.

“That you did.”

Bucky took the last few drinks of water and Steve learned into the warmth automatically.

“Do you think that counted?” Bucky asked again.

“Could always go back in and ask.”

“You’d do that? I don’t think I’ll be able to look any of them in the eye again.”

“Aww, quit bein’ a jerk, Buck,” Steve said, jabbing his shoulder into Bucky’s side.

“Hey now, you ran out after me, punk.”

Bucky looked down at Steve, at the same time Steve looked up at him. There was a beat where the air shifted between them, the same way it had in the moment before Bucky had kissed Alice Morgan a few months ago. Bucky shook his head, giving Steve’s shoulders a squeeze before letting go.

“Actually you know it’s probably better to face them now.”

*****

“Stevie, come on, we’re gonna be late again.”

Bucky was hopping desperately into his pants and reached out with the clothed leg to kick Steve’s bed. He lost his balance and fell with a crash. He looked up, expecting Steve’s face to be sticking out of the pile of blankets, laughing at him. Instead there was a muffled groan as Steve apparently burrowed deeper into the bed.

“Come on, Steve. Up and at ‘em,” Bucky said, righting himself.

Another groan followed by a wet cough. Steve finally emerged, the need for air becoming dire. He wiped the back of his mouth as he tried to pull himself to sitting, cheeks pink and eyes glassy with fever.

“Shit, you ain’t goin’ anywhere today are you?”

“Not if I’m goin’ to work tomorrow.” Steve’s voice was thick and scratching and talking launched another coughing fit that had Bucky rubbing his back through it.

As soon as Steve calmed down some, Bucky went to retrieve a glass of water and set the kettle on for tea. He pressed the back of his hand against Steve’s forehead and knew his fever wasn’t high enough to warrant the doctor just yet.

“Not coughing up anything you shouldn’t be?”

“I’m fine, Buck. You should go on.”

“You manage to get up and walk across the room alone and I might consider leaving.” Bucky fixed him with a skeptical look.

Steve pulled himself to sitting and managed to get his feet on the floor before his legs gave out. Bucky reached out to steady him, ignoring the hiss of disapproval it earned.

“Thought so. We’re both stayin’ right here.”

Bucky settled on his own cot, back pressed against the wall. That Steve had stopped arguing said enough about how he was really feeling. He only left his spot to bring Steve cups of hot tea as weak as he could make it in an attempt to loosen up what had settled in his chest. He wanted to get some food into Steve but knew from the way he was coughing it would likely just make an immediate reappearance.

He settled for watching Steve doze uneasily, shivering through the fever, and rubbing his back during the worst of the coughing. The sun had started to sink low in the sky when a knock echoed through the apartment. He wasn’t as surprised as he should have been to see Mrs. Johnson standing on the other side, holding a box of food.

“Hello?” Bucky said, trying to sound confused. He stepped aside to let her in.

“Hello, dear. You and Steve weren’t at church so we figured Steve must be sick again.”

“He’ll be fine. It doesn’t look like it will get too bad this time.” The sound of Steve coughing from the other room betrayed Bucky’s words.

“Of course. It’s not a lot I’m afraid. Some soup and bread. Some fixings for stew. Bit of milk. I think Doreen slipped in a little something extra for you.”

Bucky wanted to argue, knowing the Johnsons weren’t any better off than he and Steve were. Instead he took a moment of silence to make sure Steve had settled.

“Thank you,” he finally said. “We appreciate it.”

“It’s not a problem. We know how hard it is for you when he’s sick. You take care of your boy. Hopefully we’ll see you next week. And Missy Alcott says thanks for helping out at her sister’s wedding.”

“We’ll be there. Don’t wanna seem ungrateful but I don’t know if he’s contagious and I’d hate for you to get it.” It was the same excuse Bucky used every time he was scared Steve had stopped breathing while he was out of the room and didn’t want to alarm the person he was talking to.

“You stay healthy too, James. We’ll be praying for you both.” Mrs. Johnson said by way of goodbye.

Bucky showed her out, before going to check on Steve and dig into Doreen’s chocolate chip cookies.

*****

Rain was awful. Mud was awful. The coat wasn’t half bad.

Bucky had always struggled with confession. Besides being a little in love with Steve, he’d never had much that couldn’t be justified. He’d quit confessing the first bit after the priest wouldn’t look him in the eye for three weeks. In Brooklyn he’d made up women and always confessed to lying too. Now though he had no shortage of things to repent for.

He knew Steve didn’t blame him for any of the things he did. Even without God’s forgiveness- there weren’t enough hours in the day for all the penance he needed to do- that was nearly enough. Steve was healthy, perpetually warm even when they were camped out in the rain, shield over them and wrapped around Bucky to keep him from shivering.

They’d been at it for months, chasing HYDRA all over Europe, before Bucky stopped going to confession.  A close call in a church in Munich was what did it- he didn’t like to think about the blood pouring down Steve’s side so fast he wasn’t sure it’d stop in time even with the serum. Still though, he didn’t stop trying to repent. His rosary was always comfortable in his hands as he waited to take his shot, a prayer to St. George for every soldier’s life he took along with his standard prayer of thanks to St. Jude every time Steve survived something he shouldn’t have.

Steve always sat with him when he worked through his list after a battle. He never asked what Steve thought about while he prayed, even though he could feel Steve’s eyes on him, knew he wasn’t joining him. Steve always knew the moment he finished, hand going to his back for a second too long. He never spoke first though and Bucky didn’t know if it was an unwillingness or break the silence or uncertainty.

“Let’s go,” Bucky would say, grabbing his rifle, never bothering to scrape the mud off his knees.

*****

Steve waited for him to finish, or at least for him to pull himself up onto a pew, head still bowed before he cleared his throat. Bucky turned to look at him. There was something in his eyes Steve hadn’t seen in Bucky before. The look of too much time lost and no way to make up for any of it. He waited for Bucky to say something the way he always had. He was trying to stay naive enough to think the first thing he’d say would be “Let’s go”. It wasn’t.

“I remember this place. I, I didn’t think it’d still be here.”

Steve remembered it too. He knew Bucky didn’t know that. He looked around. The wood was darker than it had been, seventy years of use starting to show, a few windows had been replaced, but Steve could also probably still go find a glass in the dark and knew just how the pew Bucky was in would creak ominously if you sat on it wrong.

“I think its trapped here. It hasn’t really changed.” Steve was only half joking.

“The,” Bucky hesitated, obviously searching for the word. Steve waited. “Pew? The pew doesn’t creak anymore. They must have replaced it.”

“Can I?” Steve asked, indicating the space next to Bucky.

“If you want.”

Steve went, dust floating down through sunbeams. The altar gleamed and Steve had to resist the urge to reach out and thread their fingers together. He got the feeling Bucky wouldn’t react well. Instead he sat in silence, waiting for Bucky to finish.

“You’re going to be waiting a long time, Steve.”

“I know. I’m patient.”

“I’m not the man you remember. Hell, half of me thinks I’m still in that chair in Azzano.”

“You aren’t. You’re my best friend. Hasn’t changed.”

They sat there in silence, long past dark, until Bucky stood up suddenly. He started walking to the door, not looking for Steve behind him. Steve hurried after him, nearly losing his balance in his haste to keep up. They were halfway down the block before Bucky spun around to face him.

“Don’t follow me,” Bucky snapped.

Steve swallowed hard. “Not if you don’t want. Come home, Buck.”

“Can’t. Not yet. I’ll be at the church at the same time, if you want to check up on me.”

“Course. You need anything?” Steve didn’t know what else to do.

“Been in these clothes since I stole ‘em.”

Bucky turned, walking down the street. Steve stayed where he was. Bucky got down to the next streetlight before he turned down. There was a surge of hope in Steve’s chest.

“Someday, Stevie. I promise. I’ll come home.”

Steve knew that would have to be enough for now.

 

 


End file.
